


Soulful Heartless Creature

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Darker Hashirama, Incest, M/M, Patricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Hashirama is not the witless, soft fool everyone thinks him. He is the God of Shinobi, a veteran killer, mass murder, inaugurated in the blood of his victims- with incestuous desires abound in his heart
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama
Comments: 11
Kudos: 247





	Soulful Heartless Creature

**Author's Note:**

> If there are tags you think I should add, let me know. I've actually been sitting on this for a while, and updates will probably be irregular.

Hashirama is a creature of the heart. He’s emotional and open with an energetic personality and chakra enough to cover a continent in living plants. He’s a big man too, tall and broad and tan with long, dark brown hair and umber eyes speckled in gold and green. Like all big, happy creatures of the heart, he bears a story. Not the one about building a friendship with a sworn enemy, dreaming childish dreams about a village- everyone knows  _ that one _ . No, this is a lesser known tale. Unknown, in fact, to all but him. It is a love story and it starts like all the best of them- with death.

To be more specific, it starts with two corpses. Two tiny graves bearing brothers taken before their time- Itama and Kawarama. Itama’s burial is the last, the earth still fresh and overturned next to the new sprouts of grass below Kawarama’s headstone. He’s crying. Hashirama cries  _ a lot _ , as free with his emotions as he is with all other things. It makes his father scowl. Or maybe Butsuma’s face is just stuck like that.  _ That’s what Tobirama says, and he’s not often wrong _ . It’s almost enough to make him smile, but then his father speaks.

“You’re  _ weak _ boy! If you had been stronger then perhaps I wouldn’t need to send your brothers to do your work!” Hashirama snarls through the tears and turns to face his Clan Head. “Perhaps if you were a better father they wouldn’t need to be sent to their deaths at all!” Butsuma growls, raises a hand and strikes. Hashirama would like to think that this is the first great moment in his love story, the moment Tobirama steps in front of him to take the blow in his stead.

His brothers head is thrown to one side with the impact, a thin line of blood blooming where a raggedly chewed fingernail cuts into soft pale skin. “My apologies, Chichi-ue. Hashirama is emotional, and he speaks without thought.” Tobirama is bowing, low and formal. His head is turned away, one pale red eye glancing at his elder brother from under snowy lashes. Hashirama sniffs, loud and wet and disgusting enough to make their father cringe before he stalks off.

That is the day he meets Madara for the first time. And despite what they may say of him, Hashirama Senju is not an  _ absolute _ idiot. Only mostly one. Therefore he’s perfectly capable of knowing what the spiky inky locks and pale skin mean. He just doesn’t care. Madara is an Uchiha, but he’s also just a boy. It takes a few visits, but eventually he finds a friend under that loud prickly exterior. A fellow dreamer, someone who is just as much an emotional thing as he is-  _ even if Madara would rather shout denials until his ears ring _ .

They’ve been meeting once a week for almost three months when Tobirama follows him. Not that he’d  _ known _ , his pale little sibling is terribly sneaky.  _ Fathers favourite weapon _ . It sparks jealousy. Not at Tobirama, but at Butsuma. Hashirama almost falls into the river when he realises.  _ Envy of how Butsuma takes so much of Tobriama’s time and attention, of how his last brother isn’t HIS and his alone _ .

He’s angry when he finds out how Tobirama had reported back. Angry that his sibling had chosen their father over  _ him _ . He understands of course- Tobirama is very rarely treated as anything other than a tool by their sire, rarely given a chance to offer his opinion. Hashirama can’t help but wish that he’d try anyway. It’s a childish anger, but that’s what he is. A boy of twelve with a brother of nine. Sometimes he thinks he’s a child for both of them. Tobirama is certainly the farthest thing from it, aged beyond his years by all the gruesome missions he takes upon himself so that Hashirama will not have to do them.

The day he breaks his friendship with Madara is the day he discovers the mokuton. Izuna moves to clash with Tobirama, and Hashirama sees how the trees shiver and turn toward them. Spindly branches reach gnarled fingers to the younger Senju, and Hashirama  _ sees _ how eager they are to fight. To protect. He lies when he tells Butsuma that Madara is the stronger of them. The Uchiha may be a good fighter, but it’s Hashirama who wins their taijutsu wrestles.

He follows after his brother and father, and though Tobirama doesn’t look at him Hashirama knows he’s watching. He can feel the soft brush of water cool chakra against his own. Tobirama is a Sensor, but still new to his abilities. Still developing, for all his range already exceeds that of everyone else among the Senju. Hashirama watches in return. He’s chosen his brother over Madara, over their father, and that’s how it will stay. Hashirama will watch over his last brother. The pale, slender boy who he remembers holding for the first time when the other was born; still and quiet and too small, too pale under all the blood and fluids. A boy spurned by everyone who isn’t Hashirama and Touka, treated with cold disdain despite how his war efforts keep them safe.

Hashirama watches Tobirama, always. He watches how his brother grows from boy to teen. Brown eyes follow not far behind that pale figure and nobody notices. No one sees how his gaze is drawn to the shadows his sibling lingers in, hiding sensitive skin from Fire Countries bright sun. He is the one who brings Tobirama the silvering soap for his hair when he sees how his siblings scalp burns. Gifts him with a fur collar to cover the sensitive nape of his neck.

Tobirama becomes his axis, the point around which Hashirama centers himself. He moves into his brothers room despite the  _ many _ protests. Hashirama is the one to kill their father when the man draws his sword on Tobirama. Runs their father through when the man stands over his last sibling, who is weak and sick and delirious from poison on Izunas blade. He heals his sibling with bloody hands.

Hugs him close and buries his nose in silky silver hair when Tobirama reaches for him and hides a dark grin.  _ Tobirama is his alone now, nobody will come between them _ . He tells the clan that Butsuma was assassinated, and that the culprit got away. They stand still and quiet before the mans’ grave. Butsuma was not loved, there are no tears. He’s appointed Clan Head that same afternoon.

The first of the dreams come to him that night, encouraged by the lingering burn of alcohol. He curls up under Tobirama’s watchful gaze. Those eyes feature in his dreams, long white lashes fluttering over red orbs that grow warm only for him. He’s holding the younger boy close, tan contrasting beautifully against pale speckled with a hot flush. Hashirama wakes to a crusted abdomen and sticky thighs, limbs lax with the last waves of a tingling bliss he’s not experienced before.

He’s sixteen at the time of the first dream, and it marks the point in his life where he stops just looking at his brother and starts  _ seeing _ him. Sees how pale pink lips quirk in the corners when Tobirama plays small pranks on him in retaliation for being an idiot in a meeting with the clan elders. The warm, almost sly enjoyment of seeing Hashiramas’ mid shoulder length brown hair dyed lime green. Hashirama’s laughter stutters when they part for a wet tongue. Tobirama licks away the lingering drops of water  _ entirely _ unaware of how it brings forth a warm flush between his brothers legs, cock stirring under the yukata that suddenly feels far shorter than it was a moment ago.

Sleeping in the same futon as they grow becomes glorious torture. It’s summer, and Hashirama almost faints when Tobirama shrugs off the thinnest of silk yukatas to bare miles of pale skin speckled with an almost invisible dusting of freckles amidst the scars. “Wha-what are you doing?” He’s eternally grateful his voice squeaks, uncaring that his maturing voicebox makes him sound like a hoarse stag. Rather that than have Tobirama hear how breathy it’s become.

“Getting undressed. I would think that much was obvious Anija.” Tobirama turns to lift an eyebrow over his shoulder, and Hashirama has to bite his tongue to withhold a groan. His brother looks fit for a god, sweat beading between his shoulder blades and skin flushed from the heat. Those sinfully long lashes brush his cheeks, and Hashirama has to turn away when he bends to fold the yukata, lest he give himself away.

He is eighteen now, this is the last evening they spend together, and he’s torn between sadness and relief. Tobirama is leaving for Soraku, in hopes to earn a Summons contract, in accordance with tradition. It will be two years before the younger Senju returns, and Hashirama is more than just a little afraid of what absence will do for his problem.

While it’s entirely possible that not seeing his sibling is just what he needs to get over this… obsession, it’s also equally possible that this will only compound his feelings. He buries those thoughts under fears of leading the Senju alone. It’s a valid concern; Tobirama is the one who deals with all the day to day things alongside Touka. _ Oh Kami, there’s going to be no more buffer between him and his Crazy Cousin _ .

Nothing to be done about that. Tobirama’s bags are packed, and Hashirama is the last farewell. They stand side by side at the compound gates, a pale cheek resting on his tanned shoulder and soft hair tickling his ear. “Do you know what kind of contract you wish to pursue? I think something fluffy. Perhaps an otter, for your water affinity.” Filling silence with chatter is his natural reaction to discomfort, and Tobirama turns away in just that manner that means he’s hiding a smirk.

“How many times must I repeat myself, Anija. You are just as much aware as I that Summons choose first time contractors of their own accord. I shall be perfectly content to be with whatsoever creature selects me to bind itself to.” Pink lips purse in consideration for a moment. “But perhaps something ‘fluffy’ would be nice.” Hashirama laughs, it’s so rare for his sibling to make such light jokes.

Tobirama allows him a parting hug, and doesn’t even complain about the salty stains on the shoulder of his yukata. Hashirama turns to press his nose into silky locks, inhales deeply and memories the smell of morning dew and underground rivers. It’s his favorite smell in the world, and he doesn't know how he’s going to keep himself together in the absence of his other half.

Two years seem to crawl and fly simultaneously. Tobirama’s letters are short, rare things. The barest bones of what Hashirama really wants to hear, simple updates on his siblings physical condition. Hashirama’s inappropriate interest in his sibling is buried slowly and forcefully, but it does not disappear . Brief flings and tumbles between soft sheets do nothing to allay his desire. Every man he lies with falls short of pale and slender legs, supple skin dusted in freckles. Every orgasm reached brings parted lips and pink flushes under ruby jewels before his minds eye, and he trembles in rapture with the taste of his brothers name on his tongue. It doesn't help. 

Tobirama is returning today, and Hashirama is rendered restless and jumpy by the thought of seeing his brother for the first time in two years. He halfway regrets that his sensing range is so limited despite his almost inhuman chakra reserves, he’d deeply appreciate some way of knowing just how far away his Otouto is. He's more than a little tempted to find a corner to hide in and not come out of until evening. 

Still, he's not quite as much a child as everyone seems to think he is, and Hashirama straightens his back and rolls his shoulders before opening the Compound gate himself. Tobirama emerges from the shadows of the towering trees grown into a dense wall, and Hashiramas’ breath is stolen from his chest by the sight of him.

At eighteen, his brother is just past that awkward gangly stage. Tobirama had always been a somewhat slender child, but now he is tall and lean. A beautiful spirit among the thick trunks, clad in gray and blue and black. He wears the pristine white fur collar with an easy sort of pride that makes Hashiramas’ heart flutter and clench in his chest.

As his brother approaches, it becomes clear just how different he is. Tobirama, who has always moved with a certain enviable grace, walks like a large cat. His steps are silent, and even at this distance Hashirama can see how he disturbs nary a leaf on the forest floor.

When finally they are no more than a few meters apart, Hashirama finally returns to himself enough to bolt forward and hug his sibling. Tobirama seems content to put up with it, turning his head to rub his cheek softly against the formal haori over the elder Senjus’ shoulder.

There is a celebration in honor of the Heirs return. Hashirama drinks perhaps a little more than he should,  _ looks _ perhaps a little more than he should. But he cannot help himself. Tobirama is a sight to behold, dressed in clean clothes and freshly bathed. The three new red stripes on his face, marks of a latent Sage Mode likely due to his being a sensor, accent the sharper planes of his face. He shies away from all except Touka and his elder brother, avoids the majority of the boisterous celebrations. Hashirama announces that they are both retiring when Tobiramas’ brows begin to pinch in the manner that means he's uncomfortable, and leads his sibling home by the arm.

He's appropriately surprised when Tobirama leans into him the moment the screen door closes, pressing his nose against that sensitive space under his jaw, soft inhales like snuffles tickling Hashiramas’ skin.  _ Want _ hits him, stutters his breath and sends heat down his spine to pool in his belly. “You have been missing from me, Anija.” It's all Hashirama can do to withhold a groan. Tobiramas’ voice has long since broken and is a deep rumble against his brothers chest. Luckily he's saved from answering by his Otouto moving away, brushing their shoulders together in soft affection. 

By the time Hashirama has talked himself into following Tobirama to bed, the younger teen is already a pile under the covers. Changing for bed with half his attention between his legs and trying valiantly to suppress his erection. He thinks the ungainly yelp of surprise is entirely acceptable when upon pulling back his side of the blanket he catches a glimpse of white and gray fluff tucked against Tobiramas’ side. The sizable ball of downy feathers shifts and lifts its head and- “Hitoshi, this is my brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? I'm always open to questions and ideas.


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